“Terrible.”
He relinquished his cup. I took a sip and instantly regretted my skinny decision. “Oh, my gosh, that’s so much better.” I took another sip, this one longer. “Okay, it’s actually delicious.”
“Are you drunk already?” he asked. “Give me yours. I want to try it.” He did. And promptly made a disgusted face. “Oh, God. What the fuck is that?”
“The skinny version.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, fewer calories? What’s wrong with you? Why would you pick that one?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought if we’re drinking and eating all night, I should start by making some calorie-conscious decisions.”
He shivered. “Eliza, don’t ever do that again. I’m offended on your behalf.”
We switched cups back, but I promptly tossed my full drink in the nearest trashcan. “People do that, you know. Mix spirits with flavored water. It’s like a thing now.”
Without needing me to ask him, he stepped toward a short line for watermelon and Tajín-flavored vodka. They were mixing it with lime Jarritos. It looked delightfully refreshing.
“Why? Why would anyone do that? It’s a bad thing. Never make me drink it again.”
I laughed before borrowing his drink again for another sip. “Food room after this one?”
“Obviously.”
We finished sharing the vodka soda in line, grabbed two more drinks from this table, and headed in the direction of the buffet. It was already shaping up to be a fun night, and we’d only been here for twenty minutes.
Food was everywhere in the food room. Tables of appetizers and desserts. A make-your-own slider table. A fancy mac and cheese station. A chocolate fountain.
“Wow...” I held back a whistle. “These people went all out.”
“They must have money, right? Like they have to come from money?” Jonah sounded as amazed as I was. “There is literally no other explanation why makers of such a shitty vodka can throw something this extravagant.”
“Unless we’re too snobby to see the real charm,” I reminded him. Because it was entirely possible. We were not gentle judges when it came to our booze. But our picky taste was also one of the reasons Craft was so successful.
Jonah made a sound in the back of his throat, and we began loading up plates. Despite how spacious this room was, I could tell it was busier than the rest of the building we’d been in so far. I had to wait in line at a couple stations, and there was just a general sense of examining what other people were drinking and/or eating.
We split up to cater to our separate tastes, with promises of meeting back near the same door. I started piling my plate high, sneaking premature bites and trying not to spill my drink.
A part of me wondered if I should be more self-conscious. There seemed to be a weird vibe between us tonight. Or maybe weird wasn’t the right word. It was more like... an added energy to the air. A tension that hadn’t been here before.
And if I was really honest with myself, which I tried to be, it started after he’d spent the night at my place. I’d tried not to make a big deal out of that night. As much as it had opened up a window to our past, I had done my best to bounce back to normal and find our groove again.
It had been Jonah who had seemed off. Something was different about him lately. Something more intense. Something more... comfortable about the way he acted with me. Comfortable but also new. I didn’t know how to explain it other than his eyes were more blue these days than gray.
Gray meant walls-up, guarded, defensive Jonah. Blue was when he was most relaxed, most playful, most dreamy. Usually, he was an even mix of both. I spent whole days watching his eyes shift colors, watching them warm, then cool, heat, then retreat.
I didn’t know what changed that night, but lately, he was all open warmth. Especially last Sunday. And now this spontaneous invite to the distillery. It wasn’t so out of the norm for us that I was shocked by it, but I couldn’t help feeling surprised. A night away together?
I didn’t know what to make of it. And why had I said yes so easily?
Regardless, I piled my plate with delicious food—shrimp toast, sliders, mac and cheese—and several salads. And since I didn’t see Jonah at any of the stations I stopped at, I hoped he was getting whatever I missed. So I could sample his goods too. If he let me. He was such a plate goalie.
Yet if the situation was reversed... it never seemed to bother him to steal bites off my plate. He was all kindness and smiles and charm.
I found Jonah standing in the wide doorway, waiting for me. He was deep in conversation with someone I had never seen before. She was taller than I was, older too—okay, by like a year. Maybe. But she was also stunning with long, wavy blond hair and bright eyes. And basically, unfairly beautiful. She was wearing a strapless jumpsuit with wide-leg style trousers. The bodice-style top had sheer cutouts along her ribs and abdomen and looked more like elegant lingerie than work clothes. But in a way that she, and she alone, could totally pull it off.
I wasn’t a jealous person by nature, but she was almost too beautiful to be believable. Plus, she was sort of hanging on Jonah’s arm like she owned him, and that definitely rubbed me the wrong way. I took the short distance to remind my brain and my heart that I had no romantic claim on Jonah. He could therefore let any girl he wanted hang off his arm...even though I was technically here with him. Or perhaps this was Jonah’s way to keep me firmly in the friend zone.
But I was still growly and ready to fight this total stranger regardless of what I thought I should think.
